


Into the Middle of the Heath

by punk_rock_yuppie



Category: Star Trek
Genre: Canon Compliant, First Kiss, Fluffy, Getting Together, M/M, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-31
Updated: 2016-08-31
Packaged: 2018-08-12 02:52:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7917619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punk_rock_yuppie/pseuds/punk_rock_yuppie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>anonymous prompted spones+you almost died kiss</p><p>a bit of a twist on the regular ol' trope</p>
            </blockquote>





	Into the Middle of the Heath

**Author's Note:**

> this turned out adorable, and was a lot of fun to write. enjoy!

It happens after all the hustle and bustle of yet another day in the vacuum of space gone awry. It happens after the hull has been repaired, and after the medbay is scrubbed clean of too much blood. It’s after all the necessary paperwork has been filed for those who didn’t make it, and after all necessary tests are run on those who did–got to make sure they’re in tip top shape, after all. It happens after all the reports are finished and most everyone has gone to bed except those unlucky few souls on shift. 

McCoy answers the door without a thought as to who might be on the other side. He always makes a point to mention that he’s an open ear if the ensigns or anyone else needs it. Especially after days like today, with too many people hurt and even more people gone for good. He doesn’t want anyone to feel alone, something that’s easy to feel out here amid the stars.

So he lets the door slip open and stares blearily at his guest. “Spock?” He asks quietly; he struggles to stamp out a yawn blooming in his throat. He steps back and motions into his quarters. “By all means,” he allows. He’s not going to turn anyone away if they need someone to listen, and he’s especially not going to turn away the first officer. Not only does he want to satisfy his endless curiosity regarding Spock’s emotions (as always), he also wants to make sure Spock isn’t suffering silently. 

“Doctor,” Spock regards him with a curt nod. His posture is same as ever, ramrod straight and hands tight behind his back. “Today was a most trying day.”

“Indeed, Mister Spock,” McCoy agrees. He raises his hand in a mock salute. “What can I do ya for?” He drawls and motions for Spock to follow him deeper into his quarters. McCoy feels dead on his feet and while he’s more than happy to be a shoulder for Spock to…whatever–the point is, McCoy is tired, and he wants to sit.

So that’s what he does. He practically falls onto his couch and sighs in relief. “Take a seat if you want.” He doesn’t startle when Spock does just that, but he does cast a bit of a wild glance over at his companion. “You doing okay?”

“I am… as well as can be expected, Doctor.” Spock says in a measured tone. “However, the events of today have forced me to regard certain aspects of my life with a new view.”

McCoy closes his eyes, counts to ten and matches his breathing to the rhythm of numbers, then replies. “Out with it, Spock. Quit dancing around the bush.”

Spock raises an eyebrow. “A most curious turn of phrase, Leonard.”

The use of his name snaps McCoy into alertness. “Alright, what’s going on?” He reaches out and presses the back of his palm to Spock’s forehead, shoving his bangs aside in the process. “You sick or something?” 

“On the contrary,” Spock says delicately as he plucks McCoy’s hand from his head. He doesn’t let it go. He holds McCoy’s hand gently, but with enough force that McCoy doesn’t bother trying to pull away. “On the contrary, Leonard, I am more than well. We all are, thanks to your efforts.”

“It’s not just me, Spock, you know that.”

“I do, Leonard.”

McCoy can’t help but eye Spock a bit suspiciously. “Was there something you wanted to say?” He asks in a careful tone. Not harsh, not biting, no snarky insult tacked onto the end.

“There is, Leonard. However, I feel it may be more efficient to simply show you.” And just like that, Spock is reaching up to brace a hand on McCoy’s shoulder, using the leverage to lean closer. He pushes far enough into McCoy’s space that they’re breathing one another in and their lips are less than an inch away from brushing. “Is this alright, Leonard?”

McCoy gulps–a noise that sounds almost hilariously loud in the otherwise silence of his room–and nods. 

Spock closes the distance between them with a kiss that feels like a gust of wind. It’s hot, and dry, and makes McCoy think a bit of home in Georgia. He hums into the kiss, and hums again when Spock pulls back.

“While you were not in the line of fire today, I find myself irrationally upset over the notion that I could have lost you.” Spock is speaking and it takes McCoy a few moments to catch up. That kiss took him someplace else for a while, though Spock doesn’t seem to mind. “I believe you feel similarly for me, if your actions in the past are as telling as they seem.”

“Course I’m scared to lose you,” McCoy retorts. “You’re a damned good first officer and–and you’re my friend.”

“As you are mine, Leonard.” He links their fingers together. “I find my feelings go deeper than that.” Spock looks down at their hands and sighs. 

“Me too,” McCoy blurts without thinking; not that it makes what he says any less true, just less… well, less thought out. “I have, for a while. Every time you ended up on a damn biobed I thought I was gonna go outta my mind, have a coronary.” 

Spock’s lips twitch. “At least your fear is more logical than my own.”

McCoy blinks owlishly at the first officer. “By god, Spock, did you just say _I’m_  more logical than you?”

“In this single instance, yes.” Spock clearly isn’t put out by the teasing; he seems incensed by it, in fact. “An instance I doubt will ever be replicated, and therefore should be momentarily lauded for its once-in-a-lifetime nature.”

McCoy laughs, quick and breathless. “You’re a cheeky bastard, you know that?” 

“And yet,” Spock replies just as quick, leaning in again and brushing his nose against McCoy’s. “Something tells me I am, as they say, just your type, Leonard.”

“Damn right you are, hobgoblin.”


End file.
